We live in a townhouse. Our little “backyard” is about eight feet by ten feet and covered in river rock. I find it less than lovely, though I do enjoy the birds we’ve been feeding back there.
Now, I could get a variety of pots and bags of dirt, and make a container garden on my back patio. I probably will put some things out there, but to do a full vegetable garden would be hard. Especially once you factor in the tree that will shade it throughout the summer.
So, I found a community garden and went today to be assigned a garden plot. It is lovely. It has good, rich, loamy soil. It is near the river and has full, all-day sun. It’s a great place to grow things. I am excited.
It satisfies our need for what I think of as one of the requirements of childhood: a patch of earth and a stick.
Fiona seemed to agree. She demanded worms from the woman running the garden. She found a stick and a puddle and applied the one to the other. She picked little wildflowers from our little patch of garden. She did not want to leave.
I don’t blame her. It’s peaceful there. The sounds of the car and the stress of life are a little further away when you have a little patch of earth to put your feet and and hands in. The clouds seem very puffy and far away. Butterflies flutter.
Maybe, just maybe, it’s not just a childhood need. Maybe it’s an always need. Maybe the world would be a better place if we gave everyone a little patch of earth and a stick.